


RANGERS

by GutterBall



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angsty crack, Clerks AU - no kaiju, M/M, Smut, lots of cussing, maybe cracky angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:59:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For <a href="http://davecabbage.tumblr.com/post/94265579981/i-keep-thinking-about-a-chaleigh-clerks-au-where">this prompt</a>, asking for a Clerks AU. God help me. I need to stay off tumblr.</p><p>Raleigh is the put-upon clerk at Shatterdome's crummiest Quick Stop, and he gets called in on his day off. All hell breaks loose, but, hey, Chuck's right next door.</p><p>Now, if he could just do something about the damn shutters....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. RALEIGH

**Author's Note:**

  * For [davecabbage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/davecabbage/gifts).



The alarm just wouldn't shut up. He'd hit the button at least three times now -- not counting any superfluous hits from all the flailing -- but it just kept going off. Finally, Raleigh woke up enough to realize it wasn't his alarm at all.

It was the phone.

"Fuuuuuuuuck...."

Grunting, he reached up further onto the nightstand from his dirty-clothes nest on the floor, knocked over a bottle of water -- capped, thank God -- and a family photo, and finally found the receiver.

"What."

"Mr. Becket."

Great. His boss. "Pentecost? Aw, c'mon, man. It's Saturday!"

"Understood, Mr. Becket, but I need you to open the store this morning. Tendo had a family emergency."

This grunt was perilously close to a whine, but he couldn't help it. "But I just closed last night."

"Indeed. So you'll open?"

"I'm tired! And I have a game at 2:00."

As usual, Stacker Pentecost had no sympathy for anything not related to work. Especially not at -- Raleigh glanced at his clock -- 5:45 in the morning. God, could he even get to the Quick Stop by 6:00?

"I'll have one of the Kaidanovskys there by three, but I need someone to open."

Sighing, Raleigh threw an arm over his eyes. "By noon."

"Two-thirty."

"Noon."

"Mr. Becket, two o'clock is my final offer."

Yeah, but it wasn't Raleigh's balls in a sling, so he wasn't budging this time. "Noon, or I walk."

Pentecost huffed a lengthy sigh. Finally: "Fine. Noon. I want you open no later than 6:15, though, Mr. Becket."

"Fine."

Sighing wearily, he stretched up and hung up the phone, slumped back into his clothes pile for a moment, then forced himself up and on his feet. Jeans and a t-shirt would have to do, considering he hadn't had a chance to do laundry between closing last night and being so rudely awakened this morning and, thus, had no clean Quick Shop shirt. Not that he probably would have done laundry anyway. That's why he roomed with his brother, after all.

However, he wasn't a complete prick, so he tiptoed around the house as he brushed his teeth and finger-combed his longish hair into some semblence of order, made some toast on the run, and left Yancy a note explaining that he'd been called in to work but was supposed to be off in time for the game this afternoon. Wincing against the morning sunlight streaming directly into his brain, he slapped on some shades, grabbed his keys and an old jacket, and headed out the door.

Luckily, the Quick Stop was pretty close to their crappy little house, so it didn't take Raleigh long to pull up into one of the employee spots. Opening up didn't usually take too much time, so he figured coffee was the first stop, even before opening the shades over the front windows. Even just the smell of it brewing woke him up a little, and he went about the usual routine with a little more awareness.

Which only made him more irritated when he realized that some asshole had shoved what looked like rubber cement into the locks holding the metal shades down outside.

"The fuck!"

Groaning, he went back inside, poured a cup of coffee, and drank down half of it without bothering to doctor it with sugar and creamer, like he usually would. He was still half-asleep, and he needed his brain operating on all eight cylinders to figure out the whole open-the-blinds puzzle. Unfortunately, short of some sort of solvent, he really didn't know what to do.

Well... there were some old sheets in the back room for the rickety old Army cot Pentecost always kept back there for when an employee actually knew they'd be closing and opening back to back, but... they were a little stained and ratty. Ratty because they were old and frequently washed. Stained because... well... it was a mattress. A thin one, but better than the wall or the floor when the mood hit.

Gross.

Sighing again, Raleigh set aside his coffee and trudged down the center aisle to the back, climbed up on the cot, and took one of the washed sheets from the pile on the shelf. After a moment's consideration, he stripped off the used, rather sweaty one from the night before and tossed it in the hamper, put on the fresh one he'd taken down-- just in case; Yancy had been a Boy Scout way back in the day and had taught him to always be prepared -- then headed back out front with yet another fresh sheet in hand.

After a quick pause for one of the over-sized Magic Markers and a roll of duct tape from the "and other shit" aisle, as he liked to call it, Raleigh made his way out front to improvise. He used big, block letters and refrained from doodling any happy faces, and soon enough, he was taping up a giant white banner announcing that yes, he assured the public that the Quick Stop was open.

Not bad for three hours' sleep and half a cup of coffee.

He was impressed with himself for all of two minutes when he sat down on the stool behind the counter and realized... shit... he was at work. On his day off. At -- he glanced at the clock -- 6:13 in the goddamn morning.

Fuck. His. Life.

Groaning, he dropped his head onto the counter.


	2. VILIFICATION

If there was one thing Raleigh could go his entire life without hearing again, it was the phrase, "Pack of smokes, please". He'd actually made a tally one day, just to see if he was overreacting. In that one day, he heard that phrase -- to a more or less polite degree -- a hundred and seventy-three times. Un-fucking-believable.

Thus, he was relatively pleased when his first customer of the day only paid quietly for his coffee, then asked politely if he could drink it at the counter. Funny-looking guy, with that gold grill over his teeth and those weird goggle glasses, but hey. To each his own. Raleigh was no one's fashion guru.

So, he shrugged and went back to reading the Shatterdome Gazette help-wanteds.

Of course, it wasn't long before another customer popped his head in the door and asked, "Hey, you open?"

Sighing, because why had he even bothered making the damn sign, he looked up and refrained from rolling his eyes. "Yes, we're open."

"Cool. Pack of smokes."

At least it was a regular, so Raleigh didn't have to ask what brand. He didn't know the guy's name, but he was definitely the menthol Kools guy. Just as he put the pack on the counter and reached for Mr. Menthol Kools' money, the other customer spoke up.

"You sure 'bout that, kid?"

Mr. Kool glanced at the weirdo. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

Mr. Goggles leaned back a little and looked him over. "What are you, twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Twenty. Why?

"How long ya been smokin?"

Mr. Kool shot Raleigh a side-eye, but Raleigh could only shrug. He had no clue what was happening right now. "Uh... since I was fifteen?"

"Five years." Mr. Goggles shook his head. "Do you have any idea what your lungs look like by now?"

The guy opened his mouth to answer, but the stranger forestalled him by reaching into the big, black bag he'd plopped onto the counter and pulling out... a hunk of meat. A brownish, greyish, strangely spongy hunk of meat.

"Jesus, what is that?"

Mr. Strange shrugged. "That's your lung."

"Aw, fu--!" Raleigh bit off the curse and jerked back from the counter. "Dude, you can't just flop a human organ out on the counter like that!"

Mr. Kool paled and looked ready to throw up.

"So tell me, kid. Do you really want that pack of smokes?"

"Seriously, man, get that thing off there--"

"Do ya, kid?"

Mr. Kool stared at the diseased lung, seeming both sickened and fascinated. "I mean... we all gotta die sometime, right?"

The nutbar with the bag full of rotten organs shook his head again and hissed through his grilled teeth. "See, that's the exact attitude that allows those bastards at Big Tobacco to thrive. Sure, we all gotta die, but does it have to be today?"

The poor kid swallowed hard. "Hey, but if it's already too late--"

"No, no." Mr. Crazy smiled, showing off all that gold. "It's never too late, kid. Here, try this instead." He reached into his Bag of Awful and pulled out a box about the same size as the offending pack of smokes. "Trust me."

Raleigh leaned over the counter, careful of the hunk of disease still crapping up the expanse, and read the label on the box when the kid obligingly tipped it his way. "Chau's Medicinal Bone Powder." Incredulous, he shot Mr. Goggles a wide-eyed look. "What the f-- hell, man?"

He really wasn't supposed to say "fuck" while on the clock. He and Pentecost had "discussed" that too many times.

"A little of that sprinkled in your coffee or your cereal every morning, and your cravings will be gone all day. Guaranteed. Says so on the box."

Mr. Kool flipped the box over, and... sure enough, there it was. "Does it come in menthol?"

This time, it was the kid on the receiving end of Raleigh's incredulity. "Are you serious right now?"

But Mr. Goggles only grinned. "Kid, it's your lucky day. That'll be five dollars."

The kid handed over the money, and the nutbar handed over another box from his black bag. Raleigh watched with something akin to wonder, then shook his head and put the pack of smokes back on the shelf when the kid walked out.

After a moment's quiet, during which Mr. Goggles stowed away his rotten lung meat and sipped at his coffee, Raleigh shook his head. "Hey, mister... how about you finish up your coffee and be on your way, huh?"

Mr. Creepy grinned broadly, again showing off all that gold. "I'm good, thanks."

Gritting his teeth, he leaned closer. "Fine, but I'd appreciate if you don't bother the customers."

The nutbar shrugged. "Whatever, man. You got any of those disinfecting wipes back there?"

Sighing, Raleigh brought out the wipes and disinfected the entire counter just in time for another customer to ask if they were open. "Yes, we're open."

"Cool."

He and Mr. Strange stared at each other warily while the customer shopped, then finally broke the impromptu contest of nerves when the customer thunked a can of Rock Star down on the counter. Even as Raleigh rang it up, Mr. Strange unzipped his black bag again.

God, what now?

"You sure about that, kid?"

Said kid -- not a regular, at least not one Raleigh recognized by cigarette brand -- eyed ol' Mr. Crazy with blatant wariness. "What's it to you?"

"You have any idea how bad those energy drinks are for your kidneys?"

Groaning, Raleigh braced himself. Sure enough... plop. Another slab of what could only be diseased organ meat appeared on the counter.

"What the hell is that??"

Fuck. His. Life.

 

\--

 

_Fifteen minutes later...._

 

\--

 

Raleigh was surrounded by a bona fide mob. Thank God he was barricaded behind the counter, or they might have already stampeded like the herd of cattle he'd always known them to be.

"How much are you people spending on this stuff?" Ol' Goggles was in full stride by now, preaching to a riled-up congregation of ready-to-believe-ers. "On cigarettes that give you cancer? On energy drinks that rot your kidneys and leave you stuck on dialysis the rest of your life? On alcohol that destroys your liver?"

One of the uneasy mob muttered, "We're gonna die sometime, man."

That only seemed to rile Mr. Goggles further. "No, see, it's that attitude that allows these industries to thrive! Sure, everybody dies, but why pay to kill yourself? Wake up and smell the societal decay, sheeple. Stop giving people like this guy--" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Raleigh, who actually paled as the congregation all stared at him as one. "--your hard-earned cash to sell you all these implements of death!"

"Hey, now wait just a second--"

"And here it comes, ladies and gentlemen. The speech about how he's just doing his job. Sure. No one said you had to work here, you merchant of death! No one said you had to sell murder in a box or a can or a bottle to unsuspecting citizens!"

The crowd muttered restlessly.

Raleigh swallowed hard. "I think you all need to leave now. This has gotten way out of hand, and--"

"No way, Death Merchant." Mr. Crazy whirled to point a finger in Raleigh's face. "You're just pissed that someone's telling it like it is. Argue about being a pawn in Big Business's game all you want, but you're selling death to these fine people, and we've had enough! We're not gonna take it anymore! Death Merchant!"

And out of nowhere, the entire crowd started chanting right along with the crazy bastard.

"Death Merchant! Death Merchant! Death Merchant!"

One kid tore open his pack of smokes and threw the cigarettes at Raleigh, one at a time. Another shook up her can of Red Bull and cracked it open in his direction. Thankfully, she was too far away for the spray to reach him, but it left a hell of a mess everywhere else. Then, to complete the insanity, some whackjob actually had the sack to throw a bottle of beer at him. He ducked, and it shattered on the wall behind him, spraying hops-y foam everywhere.

"Hey, what the fuck!"

"Death Merchant! Death Merchant!"

_FFFFSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!_

Suddenly, the air was full of white, and all the electricity went out of the crowd, most of which were coughing and looking around blearily as if they'd just awakened. Raleigh, actually a little scared now, looked for the new threat, then felt sweet relief fill him.

Mako Mori stood on the ice cream treats freezer, steaming fire extinguisher in hand, a hard look on her face. She had never looked more beautiful to him as she did in that moment, limned with the holy light of morning streaming through the glass door, since he still hadn't managed to open the shutters.

"Who's leading this mob?"

One of the coughing customers pointed at Mr. Goggles, who was already almost to the door, black bag in hand.

"Hold it right there, mister." She hopped nimbly down from the freezer and put herself between the stranger and the door. "Who do you think you are?"

Ol' Crazy cleared his throat and produced a card between his first two fingers, like a magic trick. Mako snatched it and read it aloud. "Hannibal Chau, exotic remedies?"

"Chau??" Raleigh shouted, remembering the name on the box that first idiot had bought. " _You're_ Chau!?"

The nutbar shrugged, unfazed.

Appalled, Raleigh shook his head. "And you stirred up all this Death Merchant bullshit just to... what... get people to buy your weird natural remedies?"

Another shrug. "Pretty much."

Closing his eyes, he counted to five before saying anything else. Then: "Get out. Right now. And if you come back, I'm calling the cops. It says 'no soliciting' right there on the door, asshole."

He heard the door open and shut, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes just yet. Of all the things he did not need on what should have been his day off....

Someone cleared their throat.

Raleigh opened his eyes. The customer standing in front of him smiled a bit.

"Pack of smokes?"

"GET. OUT."

Squeaking in surprise, the customer turned and ran for the door, and Raleigh thunked his head on the counter repeatedly.

Seriously. Fuck this life.


	3. NEWT & SILENT HERM

When the store had cleared out a little, Mako joined Raleigh behind the counter and put an understanding hand on his knee while he held his head in his hands.

"Bad morning?"

He groaned. "The worst. It's my day off, I just closed last night, someone put rubber cement or something in the locks so I can't open the shutters, I get mobbed by a bunch of crazy bone powder cultists...." He fisted his hands in his hair and tugged. "I'm not even supposed to be here today!"

She sighed. "I know. Sensei said he had to call you in because Tendo's wife went into labor. I thought I'd come by to cheer you up before I head to class."

He shot her a rueful grin. "Your timing was impeccable." Leaning over, he bumped her shoulder with his. "Thanks for the assist." His pitiful little grin fell. "God, I hate this place."

Of course, that was the exact wrong thing to say. It gave her the opening she was always looking for.

"You could always go back to school."

Wincing, he raised a hand. "Don't. Not today. Please."

"Raleigh, you know I don't mean--"

"Mako...."

She sighed. He felt a little bad for shutting her down like that, but this was sooooo not the day for another pep talk about his wasted potential. She and Yancy had formed a sort of tag team where Yance guilted him at home and she guilted him everywhere else.

"Hey, don't you have a hockey game later?"

He brightened. This, he could talk about. "Yeah, at two. One of the Kaidanovskys is supposed to come in at noon so I can try to catch a nap before. Otherwise, I'll play like shit."

When she didn't respond right away, he looked at her and was surprised to see her blushing. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

Finally: "Still playing against the Weis?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yeah, why?"

She feigned an airy shrug. "No reason. Just curious."

Oh, no, she didn't. "Mako...."

Her eyes darted from him to the register to his boots to her nails. He shoulder-bumped her again, and she stiffened and blushed deeper. And light dawned.

"You like one of them!"

The blush became an inferno, and she shoved to her feet. "I do not. I'm going to class."

He jumped up after her, following her to the door. "Which one? Hu? It's Hu, isn't it? He seems like the romantic sort. Or, no... Jin. The strong, silent type. It's not Cheung, is it? Please say it isn't Cheung. He's just so... so...."

Her tiny fist shot out and left a charley horse on his upper arm before he even saw her move. She was spooky-quick like that.

"Ow! Hey!" His grin widened. "Hu _and_ Jin? Oh, oh! All three? Mako, you fiend!"

"Goodbye, Raleigh!"

She stormed out the door, blushing furiously, and he hung halfway out, hollering around the two guys leaning against the wall between the Quick Stop and the video store. "Hey, Mori! Try not to screw any more triplets on your way to class! Ha!"

One of the guys jerked up from the wall and started to head Mako's direction, but the other one grabbed him by the coat sleeve and hauled him back against the wall with a glare and a headshake. Raleigh, still laughing, started to duck back inside, then realized he recognized the pair. They hung around all the time, though he'd never caught their names.

"Don't you guys have anywhere else to be?"

The one that had stood away from the wall shot him an unimpressed look. "Do you not understand that this particular wall has the perfect misalignment to provide the exact lumbar support needed for a man of my height and weight to lean against while smoking? Here, I did the calculations."

To Raleigh's surprise, the little fast-talker actually dug around in his pockets until he produced the right wadded up piece of paper.

"Here, see? This wall has exactly--"

"What are those tattoos?"

The guy's sleeves had pulled up enough to show a little ink over the wrists, but Raleigh couldn't quite make out the design. Plus, he really didn't care about whatever equation this weirdo had worked out to explain why it was okay to loiter in front of a shithole all day.

Unfortunately, the little guy only seemed more excited by this question and yanked off his coat to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. "You got a good eye, dude. Take a look at these babies."

Raleigh had to admit that he was impressed. It was quality work, well-shaded, the colors bright and crisp. However, he had no idea what he was looking at.

"What is that... a... squid? Or, no... a dragon? With tentacles?"

Mr. Speed-talk's pitch actually raised an octave. "Dude, it's a kaiju. Haven't you ever watched any classic Japanese cinema? You work next to a video store, for Chrissakes!"

What had he gotten himself into? He shot the quieter guy a helpless look, but Mr. Silent Type only shook his head.

"Kaiju are basically monsters, usually of the giant type like Godzilla or Mothra or whatever. There's a whole genre of movie just about them. They're awesome--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." His head spinning, Raleigh put up his hands. "Look, little guy--"

"Newt."

He blinked. "Okay. Look, Newt, I'm actually at work right now, so I really can't just stand out here talking about Godzilla all day, okay?"

To his surprise, the little guy actually looked bummed. "Oh, yeah. I... I guess." He sighed, then turned on the quiet guy. "Dammit, Herm. No one has any true appreciation for creature features anymore. I blame CGI for ruining people's willingness to accept a dude in a rubber suit as a valid threat to a populace. I mean, if you just think about--"

Shaking his head, Raleigh stepped back inside and let the door close behind him, cutting the hyper little weirdo mid-sentence. Why did he always seem to find the crazy people?

Sighing, he headed for the back room and hauled out the mop and bucket. He had some semi-dried Red Bull to clean up, not to mention the beer splatter on the wall. And he knew without a doubt he'd be hearing Mako's quiet, unassuming little voice in the back of his mind the whole time, asking why he didn't go back to school, why he didn't live up to his potential.

Ugh. Fuck his life.


	4. CHUCK

Raleigh had long since given up on the classifieds and moved on to the sports section. Unfortunately, it seemed he was destined to not finish the Shatterdome Gazette today because before he could make it through the predictions for tomorrow's NFL games, a plastic case clapped down across the AFC's schedule. The DVD inside read _Pacific Rim_.

Didn't look familiar.

He glanced up to see a customer glaring at him. "Can I help you?"

"Why isn't the video store open yet?"

Raleigh glanced at the clock. 10:20. Huh. The store usually opened at 10:00.

"I guess the guy isn't in yet." His mouth twitched, but he didn't grin. "I could call him, if you want."

"What the hell good would that do?"

One eyebrow rose. "Maybe he's sleeping in, is all I meant. If so, he could probably be here in, I dunno, half an hour?"

The customer grunted and slapped his keys down on the counter, leaning close. "I got a real job, pal. I can't just stand around waiting for that slacker to show up."

Raleigh shrugged. "Look, all I can do is call the guy. You're lucky I even know his number."

"Don't tell me about lucky, you little punk. I wanted to rent a movie, but I gotta get back before my break's over. It must be pretty damn nice to show up whenever you want and sit around watching movies all day, but some of us have actual work to do."

Raleigh stood up straight, frowning. "Hey, listen. I got called in at the crack of dawn, buddy, and--"

"I'm not talking about you, loser. I'm talking about that asshole next door. Last time I was in there, he had his feet kicked up on the counter and was watching a porno. When I told him that wasn't appropriate for a place that rented family videos, he told me I was clearly in need of a good wank."

It wouldn't do to smirk. Unfortunately, Raleigh's mouth very much wanted to smirk. He could absolutely hear that zinger being said, roughened further by the Australian accent that had almost certainly delivered it.

"What's so funny?"

_Don't smirk, don't smirk, don't smirk...._

"I'm sorry, sir, but if you'll just wait a few minutes, I'll give him a call and--"

"Don't bother." The customer, all semblence of tact gone -- not that he'd shown much in the first place -- shoved the DVD case across the counter, the newspaper crumpling underneath it and nearly falling off to the floor. "Make sure he gets that. I'm not paying a late charge because that asshole didn't come in on time."

With that, the jerk turned and left, leaving Raleigh staring after him. After a moment, he shook his head and looked down at the DVD, then realized with a grin that the cranky bastard had left his keys.

Eh, what the hell.

Smirking, he put the DVD aside to hand over later and casually tossed the keys in the trash. Then, satisfied, he went back to reading the paper.

Not five minutes later, the door opened and he heard the familiar, "Oi, fuckface!" greeting he'd come to expect from the guy who worked next door. Grinning, he looked up and took in the leather bomber jacket, the mussed ginger hair, and the deeply-carved dimples that always accompanied that particular greeting.

"You're late."

"Had a late night." Chuck Hansen strolled up to the counter, brimming with Australian swagger. "You might remember."

Raleigh fought a blush. He remembered all right. It was why he'd had to change the sheet on the old Army cot this morning.

In fact, it was why he found himself changing the sheet on the old Army cot a lot lately.

Not that they were dating or anything. Because they weren't.

"Yeah, well...." Shrugging and not sure what else to say, he handed over the DVD and fought the urge to run a hand through his hair. He was always tempted to cut it back to a more respectable length, but... well... Chuck said he liked having something to wrap his hands in, during. "If a guy comes in bitching and looking for his keys, you know nothing."

Chuck didn't even blink. "Bonzer. Why are the shutters closed?"

Raleigh slumped. "Ugh. Someone put, like, rubber cement or something in the locks. I guess I need some solvent or something, but I really haven't had time to do anything about it."

"Busy morning?"

He grunted. "You could say that." One ginger eyebrow rose, but Raleigh just shook his head. "I'll tell you later. Go open the store, ya slacker."

"Fuck you, too, Ray."

"Don't call me that."

Chuck smirked and winked, flashing those damn dimples. "I only call you Raleigh when we're fucking, sweetcheeks."

An unstoppable blush crept up his neck and into his cheeks, and he shooed the big jerk toward the door without retorting. He had absolutely nothing to say in response to that.

Fucking Australians. Fuck this life.


	5. SYNTAX

A parade of customers came and went just before lunchtime, but it had slowed down again by the time Chuck made another appearance. Raleigh grinned, unable to help himself.

Chuck, however, looked ponderous. "I had a thought."

He put aside the mechanics magazine he'd picked up after finally finishing the paper. "Did it hurt?"

"Fuck off, Ray. I'm serious."

"Okay, sorry. What was the thought?"

Frowning, the Aussie went over to the coolers and pulled out a Coke, then came back and dropped a dollar on the counter. Raleigh had long since given him the employee discount, even though Chuck wasn't an employee. It evened out Chuck doing the same at the video store, even though Hansen, Sr., didn't actually have any employees besides his son.

"I was watching _Aliens_ , and I got thinking about the different kinds of science fiction."

Raleigh leaned back on the stool, interested despite himself. "There are different kinds?"

"Sorta."

Chuck came around behind the counter and leaned against the back wall. Raleigh tried not to notice how his henley stretched across that toned chest and the bulging biceps. Or how well the jeans fit over long thighs and narrow hips.

"Some people break it up into hard sci fi and soft sci fi, but I think there are other levels." Well into his spiel, now, the gorgeous bastard had the nerve to drink deep of his Coke and lick the rim of the bottle in an unconscious tease. "It hit me when they land back on the battleship after nuking the site from orbit and Ripley compliments Bishop for staying and rescuing them. See, she was expecting him to act like Ash from _Alien_ and leave her and Newt there to die, yeah?"

Speaking of Newt, Raleigh couldn't help but notice the little hyper guy and his apparently mute friend coming in the door, though he didn't acknowledge the pair.

"It occurred to me that Bishop plays mostly by Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics, while Ash from the first movie is more... I dunno... almost more Lovecraftian in nature. Almost inimical to human life."

At that, Raleigh perked up. He loved Lovecraftian horror. He was a little iffy on Asimov, but he'd definitely seen the _Alien_ movies. Plenty of times.

"So... you're saying that Ash the robot was more a glimpse at how a robotic mind, devoid of human sentiment, would easily be able to murder his entire crew of humans like a person-shaped HAL 9000, where Bishop was more... sentimental?"

"Not sentimental, mate. Just bound by a different set of sci fi rules. What are the Three Laws? One, a robot cannot harm or by omission of action allow harm to a human. Two, a robot must follow a human's orders, so long as those orders don't conflict with the first law. Three, a robot must protect itself, so long as doing so doesn't violate either of the other laws."

Raleigh blinked. "You know those off the top of your head?"

Chuck blinked. "Doesn't everyone?"

Rolling his eyes, Raleigh reached for his latest cup of coffee. He could not wait for his replacement to show up. God, he was tired and so needed a catnap before the game.

Too bad he was having an in-depth conversation that required his full attention, lest he come across as an idiot to the guy who'd taken to shagging him so enthusiastically at random intervals during their overlapping shifts.

Not that they were dating. Because they weren't.

"Anyway, Bishop clearly abides by the Three Laws, meaning that, even at the expense of his own existence, he has to protect the humans around him. In fact, he strives to be more human himself, preferring the term 'artificial person' to 'synthetic'. But Ash.... "

Chuck shook his head and took another healthy swig from the bottle, crossing his mouth-watering legs at the ankle and hooking the thumb of his free hand in his jeans pocket. Raleigh stared.

"Man, that fucker only took orders from Mother, and Mother didn't give one tin shit for the humans on her crew. In fact, Mother was a bit Lovecraftian, too, even though She was only relaying orders from Weyland-Yutani. They wanted an alien for the weapons division, so She wanted one. And since She wanted one, Ash wanted one, so he protected the little wiggler until it was old enough to start killing off or cocooning the crew."

Raleigh shook off his fascination with Chuck's physique and frowned. "But you just contradicted yourself. If the ship's computer and the synthetic are taking orders from Weyland-Yutani, that's humanity damning itself, not the cold, unfeeling universe damning humanity."

The Aussie considered this for a long moment, then grudgingly nodded. "Maybe so. But it was still Ash following through with the orders without mercy or consideration. That's a different kind of sci fi from Bishop sticking around to _maybe_ save two people from a nuclear blast instead of flying away with the one grunt he knew he _could_ save, yeah?"

"Can I add my two cents?"

They both looked up to see the two loiterers standing at the counter. The little hyper guy looked almost bursting with conversation, and Raleigh mentally braced himself. Unfortunately, Chuck was apparently in the mood to be generous, which was a rare and exquisite thing, because he only shrugged.

Newt leaned his arms on the counter. "You guys are going about this all wrong. Comparing the robots, I mean. To determine whether a movie is hard sci fi or not, you need to compare the tone and the setting, not the characters. See, hardcore science fiction is more about the science-y details and describing strange new worlds and really delving into fantastic technology. The first _Alien_ movie is classic hard sci fi. That first tracking shot, where nothing happens? That's to show off the fact that we're in a space ship, that we'll be there for most of the movie, that all this piping and wiring and such on the walls is all there is between the squishy human meatbags inside and the cold vacuum of space outside, and one little slip will kill them all."

The more invested the little guy got, the more shrill and fast-talking he became. Raleigh shot Chuck a long-suffering look, but Chuck seemed... amused? Definitely not as irritated as Raleigh expected.

"The second movie, though, is definitely more action-oriented. I'm not sure it qualifies as soft sci fi, though, which is usually more about socio-political issues disguised with a science and technology veneer. I mean, the main ship is shaped like an assault rifle, so it's not exactly _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ , ya dig?"

Nodding slowly, Chuck considered this. Then: "But that's reflected by the robots in each flick, yeah? Ash is the cold, unfeeling logic of science, where Bishop is the softer 'save humanity because it's worth saving' sociology thesis."

Despite the fact that he was running on three hours' sleep and a pot and a half of strong coffee, Raleigh couldn't help but chime in. "But you guys are again forgetting that it was Weyland-Yutani that created both robots and who were behind the scenes of both movies. They're the ones who sent the Nostromo to check out the supposed distress signal in the first place, then changed the order to 'crew expendable' when they realized a xenomorph was involved. They're the ones that created Ash to be this all-logic, no-conscience machine that followed orders to a fault, no matter the consequence, even as they created Bishop to be the polar opposite of that."

He was so deep in his own thoughts that he kinda forgot anyone else was around. He was in it, now.

"They're also who grounded Ripley for blowing up their expensive ship to kill the alien, then all but begged her to go back to LV-426 even when they knew a xenomorph was again involved, sacrificing her and an entire crew of colonial marines to further their own ambitions. Not counting the entire population of that installation when they exposed them to the aliens in the first place. Doesn't that make both movies socio-political commentary of exactly the same sort, regardless of the tone and setting or the type of robot?"

Three sets of eyes studied him. Newt looked fascinated. The silent guy -- Herm? was that what the little guy had called him? -- looked vaguely pleased.

And Chuck... Chuck looked... _poleaxed_. After a long, silent moment, the pretty bastard broke into a huge grin, his dimples so deep they ought to hurt. "Damn, Ray. I'm impressed."

Glowing with surprised pleasure at the compliment from such an unexpected source, Raleigh fought down yet another blush.

"Me, too, man." Newt didn't sound nearly as shrill, which was equally welcome. "Are you a film major or something?"

The blush broke free, and he put a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it sheepishly. "Naw, nothing like that. Just... I read a lot, and I really like movies, so...." He huffed a chuckle. "Just don't get me started on anything about World War II."

Newt shook his head. "Wait, wait, wait. 'Nothing like that' as in you're not a film major, or as in you're not a major at all?"

Oh, God. Not this conversation again. Especially not in front of Chuck.

Uncomfortable, he scruffed his hand through his hair. "I'm not in college, no. I... sorta dropped out."

Newt's eyebrows shot up behind his glasses. "Bad grades? Not sure I believe that."

Side-eyeing Chuck, he shrugged. "I never had grade trouble. Just... shit happens, ya know?"

He really, really didn't want to explain all of this. Trying to figure out how he ended up working at Quick Stop was hard enough in his own mind. Trying to explain it to anyone else without sounding like an idiot -- or worse, an outright loser -- was impossible.

Newt dug around in his coat pockets, then held out a business card. Remembering the bone powder debacle from earlier that morning, Raleigh was reluctant to take it, but the little guy seemed harmless enough, if something of a loiterer. And maybe on some kind of speed.

He eyed the card warily, then read it aloud, astonished. "Dr. Newton Geiszler, Ph.D., professor of neurophysics and genetics?"

Newt nodded casually.

"Dude... why are you hanging out between a convenience store and a video store in this shit neighborhood if you're a freaking university professor?"

Unfazed, the little guy shrugged. "I told you. That wall has the exact degree of tilt for maximum leaning comfort."

Then, as Raleigh blinked and tried to think of anything to say to that, the oddball headed for the door with his silent friend in tow. Just before they left, the little guy turned to holler back, "If you ever wanna get back into school, call me, okay? I can pull some strings."

The door closed. The store was silent.

Shaking his head, Raleigh turned to look at Chuck, who looked equally mystified. "What just happened?"

Chuck blinked. "No clue, mate." Then, he grinned a little, flashing one of his dimples. "But I kinda got a hard-on when you went off on the _Alien_ movies being socio-political commentary." The grin deepened to a smirk, sending chills up and down Raleigh's spine. "Got time for a quickie?"

His voice weak, what with all his blood flowing directly to his crotch, Raleigh tried to respond reasonably. "I'm off in half an hour, dude."

Chuck bit his lip and pushed away from the wall. "Can't wait." He leaned close, his eyes gone warm and hazy. " _Raleigh_."

Oh, fuck yes.


	6. VAGARY

So he was buck-naked in the back room of the store with the noon rush just around the corner, the door locked and the lights out up front, an equally-naked Chuck undulating in his arms and kissing him like he was made of air and Chuck would suffocate otherwise. His rational brain tried to tell him something was wrong with this picture, that this was irresponsible at best and dangerous at worst if one of the Kaidanovskys showed up early and got his ass fired, but the rest of him didn't care a particle.

Armful of naked Chuck beat "title dictates behavior" any day.

And... what was this? Instead of turning and shoving Raleigh down on the cot, Chuck was... falling back on the mattress himself and pulling Raleigh down with him? That was....

Chuck didn't usually bottom, and never without a somewhat playful, somewhat serious wrestling match for the top honors. And a sharp bite to Raleigh's lower lip for winning before giving up and enjoying himself.

But naked and willing and eager and wrapping those gorgeous, toned legs around Raleigh's waist to arch up against him? Well, he wasn't gonna argue.

"God, Chuck...."

Panting, the Aussie dug his fingers into the shifting muscle of Raleigh's back. "Don't start sounding stupid now, mate. Say something smart. It turns me on like you wouldn't fucking believe."

Of course, Raleigh's blood-deprived mind went completely blank, and he was desperately close to uttering the dreaded "um" and ruining the entire mood. Apparently, he'd found some bizarre intelligence kink of Chuck's, and he was about one blurt shy of ruining it for the both of them.

But... naked, writhing, desperate Chuck took what little intelligence God had granted him and sent it all south to the least reasonable portion of his anatomy, and thinking things was suddenly harder than his own dick.

Buying time with strokes over ginger chest hair -- it always fascinated him, so different from his own almost non-existent blonde fur sprinkling -- and a few good, slow ruts against a truly impressive erection that was exactly the right size to drive him competely out of his mind, Raleigh tried to drag himself back from his lust and _think_.

Salvation came from the least likely place when hyper little Newt popped into his mind.

Grinning as he pressed his face into Chuck heated neck, which was just starting to dampen with perspiration from all the body gyrations, Raleigh lowered his tone to pure sex in vocal form. "Smart like... how the original Godzilla movies were a cinematic attempt to show the rest of the world how dehumanizing the atomic bomb was to the Japanese populace?"

Chuck _shuddered_. And moaned. And clutched him with every part of his anatomy that was capable of clutching.

Well, maybe not every clutching part _yet_. God, Raleigh couldn't wait. He reached for the bottle of lube always stashed under the cot these days and somehow remembered a condom, as well.

"It's more than just Godzilla being a creature of radiation that occasionally rampages over Japan." One finger, and God, it was so hot and so tight that Raleigh couldn't keep the groan out of his voice. Especially when Chuck gasped and arched against him. "It's that unstoppable force crushing out all those faceless ant-people who try to run and hide but can't. It's their feeling of helplessness against a force the world had never, to that point, known." Two fingers, and he thought his heart might stop dead in his chest.

"Raleigh... Raleigh, please...."

This was the worst pillow talk Raleigh could imagine, but God, the things it was doing to Chuck's body....

"Like the song says, 'history shows again and again how Nature points up the folly of Man'." Three fingers, and Chuck made a choking noise in his chest, so Raleigh slowed down enough to give him time to adjust. "That first Godzilla movie was just after the bombings, and it was Japan's way of showing the cinema-watching world how Man's attempt to play God with such unknowable forces only dehumanized an entire population and turned them into a pile of faceless corpses--"

Chuck's desperate mouth cut off the rest of his thesis, and an insistent hand dragged Raleigh's own hand away as that hard, flexing body arched up in a silent demand. Shaking, Raleigh fumbled with the condom and damn near tore it to get it on right, which would have killed the whole thing. But finally, covered and lubed and with Chuck's desperation fueling him like never before, Raleigh pressed himself balls-deep in molten bliss and all but collapsed with sheer pleasure.

Chuck's body was muscled, oiled silk all around him, all stroking hands and clutching legs and, God, the intense heat and slide of him inside. He should really give his sometimes-lover a moment to adjust, but he just couldn't. Not with Chuck wanting him, _needing_ him so bad.

Devouring the mouth that could sling a brutal Australian taunt just as easily as it promised heavenly delights, Raleigh angled his hips and thrust with mindless determination, swallowing Chuck's hoarse cries for more and harder and there, Raleigh, right _fucking there!_ Sweat broke out over his skin, his breath hot in his lungs, and he hit that magic spot again and again, probably too hard to be comfortable later, but Chuck sure as hell wasn't telling him to stop or ease up.

God, he already felt his balls tightening, felt that pull in his gut that said a thunderclap of an orgasm was only moments away. Thankfully, Chuck seemed to be just as close, his kisses more teeth than tongue, his words devolving to near-contant moans and groans as he lifted his legs to clutch around Raleigh's ribs and open himself that much further.

God. _God!_ Almost there, white-hot pleasure swirling between them like a supernova about to fuck up an entire universe--

"Rah- _raleigh!_ "

Liquid heat exploded between them, and Chuck clutched him tighter still, inside and out, and that was all Raleigh needed to send him flying off the edge of the world, Chuck in his arms, and for that blissful eternity, nothing else mattered. He was here and he was with this crazy Australian that made him feel like a real person again, and nothing else was important.

Funny. He wasn't even supposed to be here today.

Gasping and pleasantly exhausted, he lowered himself down over Chuck's heaving body, pressed his face into the perfect curve of sweat-sheened throat, and wrapped his arms around his... well....

What _was_ Chuck, anyway? It wasn't like they were dating. Because they totally weren't.

_Not the time, genius._

And it wasn't. For right now, Chuck was his, and he wanted to lie here a moment, still deep inside that gorgeous, clutching heat, and savor the moment. And when Chuck's fingers threaded into his hair, stroking his scalp and holding him close, Raleigh could only smile and think that maybe coming in on his day off hadn't been such a bad deal, after all.


	7. PURGATION

Fully clothed, if a little ruffled around the edges, and back out front, they sat behind the counter as the lunch rush started to trickle in. Chuck had gone outside for a smoke and to check the video store to make sure he'd locked it, then come back with a DVD for them to watch until one of the Kaidanovskys showed up.

Raleigh's mouth twisted on a smirk when he saw the title. "Really? Godzilla?"

Chuck didn't bother to respond with anything but a heated glance from beneath lowered lashes. Just like that, Raleigh was ready to go again. Unfortunately... customers.

"Pack of smokes?"

Luckily, he was in too good a mood for the usual phrase to trigger him, and he peddled his sundries with relative good cheer, even as a line formed. Chuck seemed immersed in the movie playing on the little TV/DVD combo stuck on the corner of the counter beside the security monitors, but Raleigh knew he was watching and listening to all the ridiculousness of a busy lunch rush.

"Why don't you have my favorite chips?"

"Is this sandwich gluten-free?"

"Hey, you open?"

"Do you guys have pizza? Why not?"

"Is this really all the milk you have? Isn't there any more in the back?"

Finally, Chuck shook his head and gave up on Godzilla. "Seriously, mate, how do you not come unglued on one of these whackers?"

Raleigh shrugged. "I just got spectacularly laid. Pretty sure getting robbed wouldn't bum my high at this point."

The guy who'd just asked for a pack of smokes gave him a smirk, and Raleigh wondered if he should have kept that observation to himself. Blushing a little, he grinned and shrugged and took the guy's money.

Chuck seemed to have no such qualms. "That's all well and good, but seriously. Don't they drive you bugshit every now and then?"

He shrugged and rang up a six-pack of Pepsi. "Sure. But isn't that part of the job?"

"I guess." Grumbling, the Aussie turned the movie off completely and kicked back on Raleigh's stool, arms crossed over that impressive chest. "You know the ones that annoy me the most at the video store?"

"Which ones?"

"All of 'em."

The lady with a Power Bar rolled her eyes and pocketed her change.

Raleigh shot Chuck a look. "Really? All of them?"

The brat rolled his eyes. "They ask the dumbest questions. I mean, it's a video store, not the American Film Association archives. No, we don't have some random silent movie from the '40s, ya moron. Why would we? You're the only person who's ever wanted it!"

Shrugging, he rang up a college-looking kid in frat-bro attire and couldn't hide a wince at the three cans of Rock Star cozying up to the pile of Slim Jims. That kid wouldn't be right for a week. Too bad Chau wasn't still here to put the bro on a higher path.

"Eh, I guess people just hold out hope that they won't have to buy it online."

Chuck grunted, chipping a gentle kick at Raleigh's calf. "Aw, c'mon, mate. Tell me there isn't some customer you seriously just cannot stand. That makes you want to rip out his throat the minute he opens his mouth."

Again, Raleigh could only shrug. "Not really. No one stands out."

"Oh, please. Fine, maybe not one customer, but... like... a kind of customer. Like those assholes who don't know the actors and don't know the movie title but still expect me to not only know what they're looking for but to magically have it in stock."

Raleigh considered, reaching for packs of smokes and checking IDs mostly on autopilot. "I guess... maybe the comparison shoppers?"

Chuck sat forward eagerly. "There ya go. Who the fuck are comparison shoppers?"

The lady buying a box of donuts frowned at the f-bomb but didn't say anything. Just paid and left like a good girl.

"You know. They come into a convenience store because it's on the way home, then gripe because they can get it cheaper at Wal-mart. So go to Wal-mart! I don't set the prices."

Actually, that... felt kinda good. Getting it off his chest like that. Raleigh grinned a little as he rang up a four-pack of toilet paper and a bottle of wine and checked the ID.

"Yeah, yeah, that's the ticket." Chuck flashed a dimple. "Who else?"

He thought a moment. "The Lotto addicts."

"Hell yeah."

Into it, now, Raleigh rang up the last customer in the store, then leaned back against the counter and watched Chuck while he talked.

"They come in and buy, like, ten dollars worth of scratcher tickets, then stand there at the counter and scratch them. Even if there's somebody behind them. And if they win, they never just take the money and go. Oh, no. They buy more with whatever they won, then scratch _those_ tickets at the counter, too. So now there's at least three customers behind this jackass who just keeps buying tickets with his meager winnings, and a single transaction that should have taken less than thirty seconds has grown to encompass like twenty minutes and ten other pissed off people who just wanted a fountain drink on their way somewhere."

Nodding, Chuck reached out and punched him lightly on the arm. "See? Feels good, don't it?"

"Kinda, yeah." Grinning, he gave the brat a little return chip on the calf with his foot. "Thanks, man."

The door opened. "Hey, are they open next door, or what? I'm on my lunch hour, for Chrissakes!"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Speaking of annoying customers." But he grinned a little, flashing the deeper of his two dimples. "To be continued, mate."

Raleigh nodded and watched him go just as Mako pushed inside with a foil-covered casserole dish. Chuck, of course, had to say something. It wasn't in his nature not to blurt.

"So, Mori... the Wei triplets? Really? All of them at once or, like, in a row?"

She blushed to the roots of her blue-streaked hair and gave him a shove, then hissed at him when he chuckled and left. Her mortified fury of a glare speared Raleigh before she even made it halfway to the counter.

"You told him??"

Sheepish, he put a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it. "It just kinda popped out when we were talking about how shitty this morning was." He eyed the dish with both interest and wariness. "What's that?"

Her irritation faded, and she lifted the casserole dish over the counter with both hands like an offering. This didn't bode well.

"It's lunch." She sighed. "Brace yourself, Raleigh."

His heart dropped. "Aw, Mako, don't say it...."

She looked helpless, and Raleigh slumped.

Fuck. This. Life.


	8. MALAISE

"The Kaidanovskys are in Russia? _Both_ of them?" He stared, incredulous. "Since when?"

Mako was all sympathy with her hand on his arm, and Raleigh tried to remember that she didn't make the news; she just reported it. And since Pentecost was her adoptive father, she was trying to give him a heads-up for when Stacker called in a few minutes and soften the blow with homemade lasagna.

"They left yesterday morning. One of their old prison guard buddies died, and they didn't want to miss the funeral. Sensei gave them the whole week."

Gritting his teeth, he tried not to shout obscenities. "So he lied to me this morning? To get me in here, knowing I'm too damn reliable to just close up the store at noon when my replacement doesn't show up?"

She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again. It was all the answer Raleigh needed. He shoved up off the stool and away from her soothing touch. He needed to pace.

"What about the game this afternoon? Hell, Chuck even had permission to close the store for a couple of hours to join us over at the park. What am I supposed to do now?" A new thought occurred to him, and he turned on Mako with a dark look. "And something tells me that Tendo won't be in with a newborn on his hip tomorrow, either. Lemme guess, open to close again tomorrow?"

Again, she had no answer, and Raleigh swore a blue streak under his breath.

_Not her fault, not her fault, don't yell at her because it's not her fault--_

The phone rang. He gritted his teeth.

"Might not want to be here for this, Mako."

She nodded and shouldered her backpack, giving him a quick peck on the cheek on her way by. He waited until the door closed behind her to pick up the receiver.

"Pentecost."

"Mr. Becket." The old bastard didn't sound smug, for which Raleigh was eternally grateful. "It seems the Kaidanovskys are equally unavailable. I'm sure you've noticed they haven't come in to spell you."

Forcing his temper down, he grunted. "It seems they left for Russia yesterday morning. And you were gonna tell me that... when, exactly?"

Pentecost sighed. "Mako." Raleigh could almost see him shaking his head. "I was in a bind, Mr. Becket."

"And you knew you could rely on dumb ol' Raleigh to show up and be too loyal to ditch you when neither of them showed up."

"Mr. Becket--"

"And I'm supposed to work all day tomorrow, too, right?"

"You're the only one available--"

"That's not it, is it?" Realization dawned, and he felt both appalled and furious at the same time, and too much of both to not blurt the realization out like the acid it was. "I'm the only one without a life. That's what you're saying. Mako has school, and Tendo has a wife and kid, and Sasha and Aleksis have family and friends back home in Mother Russia."

"Mr. Becket, if you'll just--"

"But Raleigh has nothing. No college, no spouse, no kids, no future, no nothing." A harsh laugh coughed out of him. "You know what? You're absolutely right. What the hell do I care? It's overtime, right?"

"Ral--"

"I'll be here. Since I clearly have nowhere else to be. Goodbye, Pentecost."

For the first time in his working life, he hung up on his boss. It should have felt good, but it didn't. It felt like he needed to punch the wall.

"Ray?"

Oh, fucking hell, now Chuck was back just in time to witness Raleigh's existential crisis. Fuck this life!

_Deep breaths, Raleigh. Deep breaths. You have Yancy. You sort of have Chuck. You have Mako. And, so long as you don't blow your top, you have a job. Ease down on the throttle, kid._

That last was definitely in Yancy's "don't get cocky" voice. It almost always worked.

"Yeah, Chuck." There. He didn't sound on the bitter edge of fury anymore. He didn't think.

"You alright there, mate?"

That harsh little laugh coughed out of him again, but he didn't turn around to see if Chuck was plying him with dimples or not. "That was Pentecost. The Kaidanovskys are in Russia and thus unavailable to work a shift this evening. I'm stuck here all day." He swallowed hard. "And tomorrow."

"Fuck, mate. That sucks." Dammit. While Chuck could be a bit of a sarcastic asshole, he actually sounded sincere now. "What about the game?"

He sighed, still not turning around. "I dunno. I'll call Yance and see if he has any suggestions. Maybe you guys can just play without me."

Chuck grunted. "Fuck that. Me and Yancy against the Weis? They'll mow the park with us. Little fuckers are _mean_."

Sighing again, Raleigh finally turned around, and Chuck looked so honestly disappointed that he felt most of his fury fade out on a wash of dismay. They'd had such a good time earlier, and now he was ruining it.

...Or was he? After all, Chuck was closing the video store....

He tilted his head to one side. "Hey, do you have your gear with you?"

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, in the car. Why?"

The start of a grin quirked his mouth. "Think we can get the Weis to come all the way across town?"

The snarky bastard was no one's fool. "Wait, you wanna play here?"

He shrugged. "You're closing the store, right?"

Chuck snorted. "Yeah, because my dad owns the place and pretty much lets me get away with murder so long as my grades don't slip."

Raleigh blinked. "Wait, you're in school? Since when?"

"Not the time, mate." Grinning enough that both dimples made an appearance, Chuck edged closer. "You're really gonna lock the store -- _again_ , might I remind you -- to play a little hockey because you got called in on your day off?"

Well... it was really because Raleigh needed to remember that he _did_ have something besides a slave-like devotion to a job he hated. He had hockey, and he had friends, and he had a brother that might well be disappointed in him but still loved him anyway.

Fuck Pentecost. Fuck how he represented everything that felt wrong in Raleigh's life.

And, for a couple of hours this afternoon, fuck the Quick Stop.

Grinning, Raleigh held out a fist for Chuck to bump. "Marshal the troops, Hansen. We got a game to play."


	9. HARBINGER

The game was glorious. Everyone was strangely excited to play in a new place, so they all showed up early. The Weis drank all the Gatorade in the store, and the customers weren't happy -- one even called the cops on them for blocking off the street, and Raleigh only avoided a ticket by pointing out that 2:00 wasn't exactly a high-traffic timeslot, and no one else had complained -- but the game itself was almost magical. Shorter than usual, but magical.

Grinning, Raleigh left the store locked long enough to change out of his sweaty gear and wet a towel to rid himself of the worst of the gamestink. When he was decent again, he went back out front and unlocked the door, dealt with the flood of cranky customers, then sat behind the counter and bullshitted -- bullshat? -- with Yancy in the afternoon doldrums.

It was a surprisingly good cap on what had been a mostly shit morning. Pre-nooner aside, of course. That had been amazing.

Soon enough, Yance left for his night job as a records clerk over at the hospital, and Raleigh watched him go with a pang. His brother had never lost the limp any more than Raleigh had lost the scars on his shoulder. It was why Yancy needed a sitdown job if he wanted to work fulltime.

But he didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to think anymore about why he was still stuck at this shitty little convenience store when he'd once had such a clear path.

Thankfully, Yancy had thoughtfully brought the book Raleigh had forgotten that morning, and he was able to disappear into the Mountains of Madness for a while until the door opened again. He didn't look up from his book until he realized the new customer had been standing at the counter a few moments longer than it should take to speak up.

Puzzled, Raleigh looked up from the book. "Can I help you, sir?"

It was an older guy. Looked like someone's grandpa. "I was wondering if I could use the bathroom."

Raleigh shrugged. "Sorry, man, but it's employees only."

The old guy didn't budge. "I know, but I was hoping you'd let me use it anyway. Kind of an emergency, ya know?"

Aw, hell, was this guy gonna pee down his leg right here at the counter? And hell, it wasn't like Raleigh didn't regularly boink in the back room or hadn't just locked the door to play some street hockey. What would it hurt to break one more rule?

Not like he was even supposed to be here today. Or tomorrow, for that matter.

So, he shrugged again. "Yeah, go ahead. The good toilet paper is under the sink."

The old guy brightened. "Nice! Thank you, sonny. You're a lifesaver."

Okay, he had to admit. That felt kinda good. "No problem, sir."

As the old guy tottered down the main aisle to the back, Raleigh suddenly remembered that there was also a pretty good stack of porno mags under the sink with the "good" toilet paper. Eh, the old guy had on some pretty thick glasses, and the bathroom wasn't exactly well-lit at the best of times. Grandpa probably wouldn't notice them.

Shrugging, Raleigh went back to his book until Chuck came back over, looking like he'd caught an actual shower after the game and grinning ear to ear with all the dimples in the world.

The afternoon was definitely looking up.


	10. PERSPICACITY

The phone rang, and Raleigh picked it up without looking away from his book, rolling off the standard greeting by rote.

"Quick Stop. Our hours are six to midnight. How can I help you?"

"Rals?"

He sat up straight, the book forgotten. "Yance? What's wrong?" His brother never called him during a shift.

But Yancy only chuckled. "Nothing, Dad. Jesus, are you always this jumpy in the afternoon?"

He rolled his eyes and slumped back on the stool. "Whatever. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just calling to see if you were feeling better. You were a little... hair-trigger... earlier."

Sighing, he marked his page and scooted the stool further back so he could slump against the wall. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Nothing to be sorry for, bro. Just... did you wanna talk about it?"

He glanced around the empty store and shrugged. "I just... it's been one of those days, ya know?"

"One of those days where everything seems to be trying to tell you something?"

He winced. "Something like that. I just... isn't there more than this?"

He would never have asked Mako that question. Though probably his best friend, Mako didn't know what Yancy knew. Didn't know the whole sordid mess of it. And, God help him, Raleigh couldn't bring himself to talk about it. Could barely bring himself to _think_ about it.

Yancy sighed. "Rals, how many times do I have to tell you: it wasn't your fault." His voice soft, he went on. "Isn't it time you stopped punishing yourself?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Raleigh grunted. "I'm not punishing myself."

Big Brother Wisdom paused just long enough to be dramatic, then issued his parting shot. "Aren't you?" Another pause. "Just think about it, okay, kid?"

Sighing, Raleigh scooted back over to the counter and picked up his book,but the words wouldn't seem to line up like they should. Thankfully, before he was forced to put aside his distraction and actually do as his oh-so-insightful brother suggested, the door opened, and Chuck strolled in with his "pop culture debate" face on.

"Hey, Ray, I was thinking--"

Music to his ears.


	11. PARADIGM

"Hey, aren't you one of the Becket brothers?"

Surprised at being recognized as anything but the Quick Stop clerk, Raleigh looked up and drew a blank. He didn't recognize the girl looking at him so hopefully.

"Can I help you?"

"Raleigh, right? Raleigh Becket?"

He didn't agree or disagree. In fact, he was a little weirded out.

"You don't remember me, do you?" She shook her head, still grinning a little. "I was probably too young to catch your attention. I'm Kennedy LaRue's little sister. She used to hang out with--"

"Naomi Sokolov." Raleigh finished, feeling a wave of... something... flow through him. Nostalgia, embarrassment, even pain, maybe? Too much to classify, really.

"Exactly." The girl -- he still didn't remember her; not really -- smiled brightly. "You guys hung out at our house all the time when you were in high school. I was still in junior high, though. Had braces."

"Sure, sure." Still no clue. "So... how is Naomi these days?"

Oh, it was weird to think about those times. God, what kind of day was this? Naomi had been... just... a tornado. Destructive but strangely hypnotic at the same time. Fascinating.

"I hear she's a reporter now, but it's been a while. She and Kenna kind of had a falling out, and I haven't heard much since then."

"That's a shame. They were besties back in the day."

"Yeah." She tilted her head. "So... how about you? Last I remember, you had a university scholarship in football with a chance at the NFL. What are you doing here?"

Good God, the _leitmotif_ of his day, yet again. Didn't anyone get tired of asking him that question?

Best to keep it short and sweet. "Injury junior year. How about you, Little Sister? What are you up to these days?"

"That sucks, Raleigh. You were really good." She looked honestly dismayed, and he braced himself for her pity. "I heard talent scouts lined the stands when you and your brother played. Does he still play, then?"

He narrowly avoided a cringe. "No, he was injured, too." Desperate now, he scanned her fancy bottled tea and 100-calorie pack of snacks. "Did you need anything else?"

Thank God, but she took the hint and paid, shooting him little questioning looks. She clearly wanted to ask more, but she just as clearly didn't want to pry at an obviously painful subject.

"Well, it was nice to see you, Raleigh."

"You, too, kid." God, he didn't even remember her name. "Take care."

She left with many a backward glance, and Raleigh felt physical relief when the door closed behind her. Had he pissed off a gypsy or something? What the hell was with today? It was like a particularly depressing episode of _This Is Your Life_ , where all the blasts from the past were emotional shrapnel grenades instead of pleasant surprises.

The door opened. God help him.

"Hey, kid. Was that Kennedy LaRue's little sister I just saw in the parking lot?"

Yancy. Thank God.

Sighing with relief, he leaned on the counter and watched his brother dig around in a plastic carry-handle take-out bag. "It was. What's that? And what are you doing here again?"

The jerk grinned. "Chinese takeout solves all of life's problems. The fortune cookie is magic."

He smirked. "Early lunch break?"

"Damn right. My knee was killing me. I know better than to sit still after a game, but what can ya do? Mu shu pork?"

"Gimme!"

They dug in, and he began to hope that Yancy's surprise visit would just be a pleasant suppertime interlude. Of course, he should have known better.

Maybe he really _had_ pissed off a gypsy.

"So... Kennedy LaRue's little sister."

Raleigh hesitated, chopsticks halfway between the takeout box and his open mouth. _Don't do it, Yance...._

"She mention Naomi?"

_Landmines, landmines everywhere, and not a step that's safe._

"Just offhand. Apparently, she and Kenna had a falling out and haven't spoken since, but the kid thinks Naomi is a reporter now."

Yancy nodded slowly, slurping his beef lo mein and chewing thoughtfully. "Sounds about right. She always was nosy as hell."

_Please let that be it. Please let that be it._

Thank all the gods that might have ever been, but Yancy let it lie, and they finished their impromptu dinner with chatter and banter about how to get the damn shutters open -- Raleigh had a call in with a locksmith, but no dice until at least tomorrow -- instead of stony silence. Naomi wasn't exactly a sore spot anymore -- they'd gone through far too much together for a woman to ever ruin them again -- but she wasn't exactly a rosy memory, either.

Maybe he _ought_ to piss off a gypsy. Punch one right in the throat. Just on general principles.

He quit grumbling as he gave his brother a one-armed hug as a thank-you for the takeout and conversation, then went back to the counter and waited for it to be seven o'clock, when he usually had another rash of customers. Anything to take his mind off of... everything.

The door opened. He put on his best customer service face, which froze as soon as he recognized his latest customer.

Astonished and... strangely numb... he could only gape. "Naomi??"

She smiled. "Hey there, handsome. Long time, no see."

What. The. Fuck.


	12. WHIMSY

Seriously. What the hell was wrong with today? This was shit he did not need.

"What are you doing here?"

She sashayed up to the counter and leaned against it, fluttering those long eyelashes up at him. God, she hadn't changed a hair, and he couldn't help but feel that old pull in his gut. She was beautiful, and she was deadly, and the deadly only made her more magnetic.

"Looking for you, actually. I just moved back to Shatterdome and heard the Becket brothers were still around." She nearly purred. "The reporter in me wants the story, because no way should a couple of gorgeous, brilliant, talented guys like you still be stuck in this boring old burg."

God, how did she always do this? He could hear the double edge to her words -- complimentary on one side, acid-etched on the other -- but the idiot part of him wanted to only listen to the good side. Had he learned nothing?

"If it's so boring, why'd you come back?"

Her perfect eyebrows shot up. "Well, well, little brother. I see you've grown into your smart mouth." She nodded, an assessing light flaring in her dark eyes. "Very smart, indeed."

But he'd scored his point, and somehow, it... freed him. Yes, she was beautiful, but she hadn't changed a bit. She could say she was here looking for him, but she'd already brought Yancy into the picture.

Besides, her dark eyes weren't nearly as fascinating as Chuck's ever-changing grey ones. Sometimes greenish, sometimes blueish, but always sparkling. Even at his most sarcastic, those eyes fairly glittered with light.

"Did you need something, Naomi?" His lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. "Pack of smokes, maybe?"

So what if she didn't know it was a shot. Raleigh did, and he was proud of himself for it.

She was just another annoying customer.

However, she was as sharp as ever, and she seemed to sense the change in him. Straightening, she stood back from the counter and put on her game face. "Actually, I wasn't kidding when I said the reporter in me wants to know what happened. I came looking for a story, Rals."

He laughed. Loud and hard. It jumped out of him without conscious volition, and he didn't fight it. It felt damn good.

When it wound down, he laughed again to find her glaring at him, clearly unimpressed. "Oh, Naomi, the look on your face."

"I just don't see what's funny, is all."

And he could never explain it in a way she'd understand. She had played him and Yancy off each other, leading Raleigh on while fucking Yancy, driving a wedge between them that could easily have severed the one family bond they had left, and she thought she could sashay in here and bat her eyelashes and demand a story as if there were no hard feelings.

What a stupid bitch. He couldn't believe he'd ever been under her spell. Ah, youth.

"Naomi, it was nice seeing you and all, but there's no story here. Not for you, anyway."

She stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he patiently explained, "that if you're not buying anything, you'll have to leave."

She flared up, and he braced himself for the explosion, but she surprised him. Instead of exploding, she took a deep breath, glanced down at the fists she'd formed at some point, and squared her shoulders. Only then did she look at him again.

"And if I promise to leave out any personal bias?"

He snorted.

"I'm not kidding, Rals-- Raleigh. I want the story, and I'll play nice. I always thought I'd be interviewing you in an NFL locker room, so... why am I not?"

Rolling his eyes, he waved her off. "No one cares about the Becket boys anymore, Naomi. Let it lie."

"I care."

Damn if she didn't sound sincere. Wary, he side-eyed her. Damn if she didn't _look_ sincere, too.

"I do, Raleigh. You may not think so, but I cared very much about you both, and... I want to know why you're working at a convenience store when you should be raking in pro football money and drowning in whores and parties and Super Bowl rings. You should have been the MVP running back at least twice over by now."

Gritting his teeth, he refused to answer. He could feel himself weakening and couldn't tell if it was because he really thought she was sincere or if he was just falling for her charm again like an idiot.

"Was it... me?"

The fight ran out of him, and he huffed a soft laugh. "No. You fucked us up a little, but not that much." Apparently, not _all_ the fight was gone, because he couldn't resist another shot. One she couldn't miss. "No, we got over you just fine."

Her jaw tightened, but... Yancy was right. She'd always been a nosy bitch. "Then what?"

He debated, then shook his head. He couldn't make this kind of decision while she was standing right there. And he needed to talk to Yancy before even considering doing an actual interview and spilling their tragedies to the handful of Shatterdome residents who might still give a damn. He needed... to get the hell out of this store for a while.

"Look... I can't talk about this right now. I need to take a walk or something. Talk to Yance and see what he thinks about it. Can you maybe... come back later? I promise, I really will think about it."

To his surprise, she brightened. "That's all I ask, Rals. What time do you close?"

Oh, hell no. No way was he letting her get him alone and off-duty. Besides, if he had his druthers, his time after work would be spent with Chuck in the back room.

"Actually, I'd rather do it here. We might have a few customers interrupt, but...."

She nodded. "Home field advantage. I get it. How long do you need?"

He glanced at the clock. 9:30. "Gimme an hour or so?"

"Will do." Seemingly on impulse, she reached out and touched his hand where he'd braced it on the counter. "Thanks for considering it, Raleigh. It means a lot to me."

"I'm not making any promises, Naomi."

"I know. Just... you're sweet."

Thankfully, she left, and Raleigh reached for the phone, dialling from memory. It rang twice.

"Yeah."

Despite the situation, he couldn't help but grin. "That how you answer the phone for your customers?"

"Fuck the customers. What's up, Ray?"

But Raleigh wasn't fooled. Chuck sounded intrigued. Understandable, because Raleigh rarely had to call him. Usually, the Aussie made his way over on his own.

"I need to ask you a favor. Can you maybe come watch the store for a little bit? I... need to get out for a while."

A long pause drew out. Finally: "You okay, Ray?"

He sighed. "Think so. I just... need to take a walk and think about some things."

To his surprise, Chuck didn't pry. Even more surprising, he agreed. "Sure, Ray. Gimme a second to lock up, yeah?"

"Thanks, Chuck. I really appreciate it."

"No worries, mate."


	13. QUANDARY

He didn't really feel better after the walk, but he did feel better after he called Yancy's cell and explained the situation. He probably shouldn't be surprised that Yancy was all right with a potential article about them and told his little brother to use his judgment.  He _was_ surprised, though, when Yancy told him to tell Naomi hi for him.

"What? She was a phenominal lay, bro."

Grinning ruefully, he hung up on the smug jackass and made his way back to the store, still not sure what to do. Did he really want to drag the whole thing out for public consumption? Did anyone even care anymore about a couple of flash-in-the-pan local boys who looked to make good five years ago and then just disappeared?

Did he really want just everyone knowing that the lame-ass Quick Stop employee was that guy in the paper? Did he want Mako to know?

Did he want Chuck to know?

The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to put it off. Not a "no", exactly, but definitely a "not now". He wanted to tell Mako and especially Chuck himself, and after a day like today, sooner was definitely starting to look better than later. Or never.

Sighing, he walked past Newt and the silent guy, leaning against the wall between the two stores again, and gave them a silent wave as he opened the Quick Stop door and stepped back into the real world. Well, _his_ real world. They waved back, but Newt went on talking a mile a minute about whatever the hell he was talking about while the other guy stoicly packed an honest to God tobacco pipe. There was a story there, but Raleigh was in no mood to hear it at the moment.

Chuck looked up from the paper Raleigh had finished a lifetime ago and smiled. The expression was so rare and genuine on that handsome face that Raleigh felt shot through with it. They weren't dating, but... damn, if he didn't love that smile.

"Feeling better, mate?"

Well, he was _now_. "I guess. Just needed some fresh air, ya know."

"Definitely. Hey, some girl came in looking for you a bit ago."

One eyebrow rose. "Tall, businessy dress suit, dark hair and eyes?"

"Yeah, that's the one. She asked to use the bathroom when I told her you weren't back yet." Chuck glanced at the clock. "Might wanna check on her, mate. She's been back there a while."

Raleigh facepalmed. "Chuck, there aren't any lights in the bathroom after six o'clock. What if she fell down and is dying or something?"

The brat shrugged, unrepentant. "I told her. She said she really had to go."

He rolled his eyes. "Did you at least tell her where the flashlight is?"

A wicked grin made more wicked still by the dimple it etched into the left cheek. "Nope."

"Really, Chuck."

He shoved away from the customer side of the counter to head down the middle aisle only to see the door to the back open and Naomi herself stroll casually out into the store. He tilted his head. Not casually, actually.

He blinked. That stroll definitely wasn't casual. That stroll was damn near sensual, her hips rolling with every step.

Then, she looked up from where she was fingering the buttons on her expensive suit jacket and paused, then shot a look behind her. Frowning, she looked at him again. "How'd you get out here so fast?"

He blinked again. "Beg pardon?"

She strolled closer, some of the hip-rolling gone out of her step, but she crowded close and put her hands on his chest, and he backed up against the counter, completely at a loss.

"Yet again, you impress me, Rals."

"Rals?" Uh-oh. Chuck didn't sound confused. He sounded ready to be pissed.

"Uh... Naomi? What... are you doing?"

She licked her lips and slowly lifted her eyes to his, those dark irises seeming to glow with latent heat. "Did you use a little of that running back juke and speed to beat me back out front, Becket boy?"

"Wait, you were a running back?" Less pissed, more confused. And curious, dammit.

"Naomi, I have no idea what you're talking about. I just got back from a walk. I haven't even been to the back since...." He swallowed hard and shot Chuck a desperate look. "Well, since around noon."

Thankfully, she retracted her claws and backed off a little. "So... you're telling me we didn't just make love in the bathroom?"

Chuck sputtered. Raleigh sputtered. Naomi stared, starting to look flustered and angry.

"Seriously, Rals, if this is a joke, it isn't funny." She stepped closer again, trying for sultry but too floozled to manage it this time. "Tell me you didn't just lie back, ready and eager for me, and let me have my way with you."

"What the bloody fuck, Ray??"

Raleigh's mouth worked, but no sound came out, and Naomi must have seen the sincerity in his expression because she backed off again.

"Raleigh?"

"Ray, who the fuck is she and what the fuck are you thinking to--"

"Guys, stop!" To his infinite relief, they both did. "Chuck, did anyone go back there while I was gone?"

"Just the slut trying to crawl up your junk, you asshole."

He winced, but he didn't have time to soothe Chuck's ego and assure him that it wasn't what he thought just yet. "Then who the fuck did she just fuck in our bathroom?"

Naomi paled and swayed on her feet, leaving Raleigh to catch her before she passed out entirely. Now he had a passed-out floozy in his arms and a pissed off Australian spitting curses at his back and God only knows what kind of pervert who had somehow snuck into his bathroom.

Seriously. Fuck this life. At this point, he'd do anything to get out of this hellhole.

Fucking hell.


	14. LAMENTATION

Chuck stormed out before the police arrived. Raleigh tried to explain, but Chuck was in no mood to listen. Worse, he couldn't follow the cranky bastard out because he still had an armful of unconscious hussy.

Then, Mako showed up just in time for the EMTs and fire trucks and cops, and he had to explain why he was holding an unconscious reporter while his boss's daughter tried not to goggle or laugh inappropriately at what was decidedly _not_ a hilarious moment of hell.

"So... why was there a dead man in your bathroom?"

He shot Mako a guilty look before answering the cop filling out the report. "He came in to use the bathroom. I... I thought he left. Never gave him another thought."

Mako shook her head. The cop never looked up from his form.

"And when was this?"

Raleigh stopped to consider. "Well, it was after the game, but before Chuck came back over to compare _Top Gun_ with some movie a customer brought back this morning, so... maybe around four o'clock? Give or take?"

Mako frowned. "Wait, what game? You went? How?"

He winced. "Um... not exactly. We kinda had it out front. In the street."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You closed the store for a hockey game?"

Trying to look innocent, he grinned. "Don't tell Pentecost?"

She shook her head. "Oh, Raleigh."

The cop cleared his throat. "So you let this gentleman use the bathroom at around four and... just... forgot about him?"

Blushing, Raleigh shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, I thought he left. Chuck came in, and then I talked to my brother on the phone, and... I just got distracted. I can't keep track of every customer, ya know."

"Right." Scribble scribble. "Then why was the woman here?"

He sighed. "She's a reporter. She was here to do a story on me." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mako's attention focus like a laser and hurried on. "I'd gone out for a walk, so Chuck covered for me and let her use the bathroom. He didn't even know about the guy, so he couldn't have known he might still be back there."

Scribble scratch. "So how did she come to have sex with the dead man?"

He cringed. Even Mako winced.

"She thought it was me, I guess."

Scribble scribble scra--

The cop looked up and stared. Mako glared at him. Raleigh panicked.

"It's dark back there! The lights in the bathroom stop working after six o'clock and we can't get them fixed!"

"Raleigh Becket, why were you having sex with a reporter??"

The cop looked like he wanted an answer to that, too.

"I wasn't!" Putting up his hands, Raleigh backed away from the pair of vultures  crowding in on him. "I thought she was just here for a story!"

"Then why did she think a body in the dark with an erection was you, sir?"

"And why did she want to do a story on you, Raleigh?"

Great, now they were tag-teaming him. Helpless, he tried to answer without digging himself any deeper. "Look, officer, I don't know what she was thinking. I wasn't even sure I'd give her the story -- just told her I needed to think about it. We did have something of a history, but it was _ancient_ history." He shot a pleading glance at Mako. "And she wanted a story because... well...."

Dammit. He'd wanted to tell Chuck first to soothe the ruffled feathers, but... dammit. How the hell had all of this happened to him?

He decided to be as vague as possible and hung his head. "She wanted a story because I used to be somebody, and she knew me then, and she wanted to know why I'm nobody now."

After a long moment, the cop's pen scritch-scratched again, jotting notes, and Mako put a hand on his arm. He knew she'd want the full story later, but he just didn't have it in him right now. Not with a near-catatonic Naomi huddling under a blanket in the back of an ambulance while the dead grandpa with one helluva stiffy was being loaded into the coroner's van. The old bastard had found the porno mags after all.

Fuck this life.

Finally, the cop finished scribbling. "I'm sure we'll have more questions for you later, Mr. Becket, but we should be good for now. Here's my card if you think of anything you want to add to the report."

"Thank you, officer."

"Good night."

The cops and fire trucks and ambulance all pulled away into the night, and Raleigh stood at the door, Mako's hand still comfortingly on his arm, wondering what the hell he'd ever done to deserve the shitstorm today had been.

After a long moment, he sighed. "I should call Chuck."

It slipped out before he remembered that Mako didn't know about their little hook-ups in the back. He blushed, but hoped she wouldn't notice.

As if Mako Mori had ever not noticed something.

"I suppose he was angry at the thought of anyone else touching you?"

Eyes wide, he jerked around to stare at her. "How did you--?"

But calm, tranquil Mako only shook her head and smiled. "Please, Raleigh. I have eyes, you know." Her smile turned impish, her eyes sparkling. "Besides, Sensei and Mr. Hansen are old Air Force buddies. And they talk too much when they drink."

He buried his face in his hands. "God help me. It's just... I mean... we're not dating or anything, Mako."

When she didn't answer right away, he peeked at her through his fingers, then straightened up and uncovered entirely at the strange look on her face. He raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you?"

His mouth worked, but nothing came out. They _weren't_ dating, were they? They never saw each other outside of overlapping shifts and hockey games. They didn't stay over at each others' houses. They just... hooked up, right?

But Chuck had been _awfully_ pissed at the thought of Naomi fucking Raleigh in the bathroom. Not appalled at her audacity or shocked at the idea that she'd accidentally screwed somebody else instead, but _pissed_.

Territorial, even.

Shit. _Were_ they dating? Why the hell would a guy like Chuck Hansen date a stuck-in-a-rut nobody like Raleigh? Chuck freely admitted that he only worked at the video store because it was his dad's. Chuck was apparently in college, though they hadn't really talked about it beyond that little blurt earlier.

And Chuck was young and gorgeous and brilliant and had the whole world ahead of him. Raleigh was... a hot mess. Just a pile of useless goo.

They couldn't be dating. Could they?

Shaking her head, Mako patted him on the arm again, shouldered her backpack, and left him alone in the store, which was suddenly terrifyingly quiet after all the bustle of the last half-hour. Maybe Chuck would come back over in a bit so Raleigh could explain that he had no intention of anything with Naomi. Hell, that just thinking about Chuck had completely canceled his old flame's witchy powers.

Why would anyone want the kind of girl who would jump on a guy in the bathroom without checking to make sure who he was first over a man who got so turned on by a logical debate that he willingly surrendered the top spot he usually fought for? Jesus! As if there was even a comparison!

He'd wait for Chuck to cool off enough to stroll back over and demand an explanation, then fix everything. Then, maybe he'd have the nerve to ask if Chuck thought they were dating, like Mako seemed to think he did.

He could still fix this one thing.

He could.


	15. JUXTAPOSITION

The door opened, and Raleigh looked up eagerly, but it was only Newt and his silent shadow. He glanced at the clock, dismayed to see that it was after eleven already with no sign of Chuck.

"Hey, Newt. Giving the wall a rest, finally?"

"Nice one."

The little guy dropped a bottled frappuccino on the counter, and Raleigh shuddered to think how much more hyper the good doctor would be on caffeine. He didn't envy the neurophysics and genetics students over at the university one little bit.

"That be all for ya?"

Newt nodded and handed over his debit card. "Say, you give any thought to going back to college?"

And there it was again. The cringe. "Honestly, today has been so crazy that I haven't had time to."

Thankfully, instead of pursuing the college thing, Newt jumped on the unintentional opening. "Oh, yeah, man! What was up with all those cop cars and fire trucks and such? I heard some girl screwed some dead guy on accident. Is that true?"

Another cringe. "I... uh... really don't know...."

"Because, I mean, what was a dead guy doing in your bathroom? And why would she screw him? And, seriously, why did he have a boner?"

The silent guy elbowed the little wiggler, and said little wiggler grudgingly stopped with the rapid-fire. "Anyway, I just wanted to say that I've been listening to you talk to your friends on and off all day, and I think you have the makings of a good teacher. Maybe English lit. Heard you talking about Lovecraft again later with that blondish guy who kinda looks like you. Herm thinks it's your brother, don'tcha, Herm?"

Herm rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, so maybe English lit, though with all the sci fi you and the grumpy guy next door talk about, you might be interested in the sciences."

Herm dug in the elbow again, and Newt again changed directions.

"You just... you seem to explain things pretty well, and you tone down that hothead pretty fast, so I think you'd probably be good at keeping university students in line, ya know?"

Raleigh blinked, more than a little overwhelmed by what he wasn't sure was praise but kinda felt like it. "I... thanks?"

The little guy nodded and scooped up his frappuccino. "Just think about it, yeah? And gimme a call. I wasn't kidding; I got strings to pull. Financial aid, scholarships for coming back to school after a lapse, the works. Maybe a workstudy program if you're worried about having a job."

Still talking a mile a minute, the little guy headed out the door, not seeming to realize that his silent friend was still standing at the counter, eyeing Raleigh with....

"Did you need something?"

To his shock, the guy actually opened his mouth and spoke.

"Take him up on his offer, son. Opportunity doesn't knock that many times, and from what I've seen and heard, it's trying like hell to do you a favor today. Get out whilst you can. You won't be young forever."

With that, the formerly silent -- and apparently British --Herm spun on his heel and hobbled away, the cane Raleigh hadn't even noticed earlier thumping a steady tattoo on the concrete floor until the door closed behind him.

All he could do was slump down on the stool and stare off into space, thinking about... well... thinking about... _maybe_.


	16. CATHARSIS

Eleven thirty and still no sign of Chuck. Gritting his teeth, Raleigh picked up the phone and dialled the number.

Two rings. Three. Four. Five.

Really, Chuck?

Feeling a little desperate, he let it keep ringing, hoping against hope that Chuck wasn't as mad as it was starting to look like.

Finally, the tenth ring broke off on a short, "What."

Raleigh swallowed hard. "Chuck?"

"Fuckface."

Uh-oh. While that particular nickname had started out just as insulting as it sounded when Mr. Hansen bought the video store and installed his son in it six months ago, it had quickly become something of an endearment. A little in-joke between the two of them.

It seemed the clock had rolled back.

Raleigh sighed. "Look, Chuck, I can explain--"

CLICK.

Oh, no, he didn't.

Staring at the receiver in his hand, Raleigh suddenly began to wonder if this was a deeper breach than he had suspected. If maybe Mako was right that they'd been dating this whole time, and now Chuck thought Raleigh had cheated on him.

If he could fix this.

He was still holding the buzzing receiver, in fact, when the door flew open hard enough to bounce off the nearly-empty newspaper racks and Raleigh looked up to see a furious, steaming Chuck huffing angrily in the doorway.

"You've got some nerve, ya drongo."

"Chuck, it's not what you--"

"Shut the fuck up and let me talk, fuckface."

Oh, dammit all to hell. They were dating, and Chuck though he'd cheated on him. Fucking fuck.

"Get the fuck out from behind that counter so I can punch you in the throat like you deserve."

Raleigh put his hands up. "Can I just say this--"

" _Right fucking now, asshole!_ "

He was out from behind the counter before he could even think about the movement, and Chuck actually took a swing at him. Luckily, Raleigh really did have some quickness left from his glory days as a running back, and he dodged away, quickstepping around to get behind the pissed off Aussie and put him in a full nelson.

Which did not improve Chuck's mood.

Shouting Australian curses that Raleigh wasn't even sure were still English, the brat thrashed and whiplashed and lurched around the store, dragging Raleigh along for the ride. Shit fell off the shelves. Bags of chips exploded when one or the other of them accidentally stepped on them. Bottles of wine and beer smashed on the floor and spilled everywhere.

Hurricane Chuck was in full force, raging at a full-on Category Five, destroying everything in his path until his fury was finally spent and they both leaned heavily, gasping, against the counter. Raleigh held the full nelson, just in case, but he was tired. Chuck's back heaved against his chest, his body heavy and lax.

It would almost feel like coming down after sex if Raleigh didn't feel so heartsick that he might not be able to talk some sense into his... well... his boyfriend, he supposed.

Maybe _ex_ -boyfriend.

He winced.

"Can I please say this now?"

"Fuck you, Ray."

But Chuck made no move to tag back into their impromptu wrestling match, and they'd at least made it back to Ray instead of fuckface, so Raleigh waded in, hoping like hell he wouldn't misspeak and make things worse.

"Naomi is a reporter." He tried to be as clear and concise as possible, well aware of that heaving back tensing again with every word. "Yes, she was something of an old girlfriend, but she dated me while fucking Yancy."

Chuck went completely still in his grip.

"We both washed our hands of her and I tried not to think about her again until she showed up tonight, asking for a story."

"...About what?" Oh, so grudging. But again, the brat didn't try to pull away.

Raleigh sighed. Time to shit or get off the pot. "About me and Yancy. We were in college on football scholarships. Yancy was the star quarterback and I was the star running back. She knew we were already being courted by NFL scouts when she moved away and lost track of us, and she wanted to know why neither of us ever left Shatterdome. Why I'm working in this shitty convenience store instead of living the good life in the NFL."

"...So... why aren't you?"

Warily, he loosened his grip and let Chuck twist away, his tired body tensing. It seemed, however, that the fight was over, because the gorgeous bastard only stared at him, his face carefully blank.

Raleigh gritted his teeth and decided to shit. He didn't want off this particular pot. He wasn't sure Chuck's opinion of him could get any lower, anyway.

"During Yancy's senior year -- I was a junior -- we played the number one team in our division, the Knifeheads." Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on the counter. "Quarterback sneak. I was supposed to lead block for him. This big son of a bitch on their D-line ran right through me, dislocating my shoulder and tearing it open with his helmet and my own damn pads--"

Chuck's eyes widened. He'd asked about the scars a few times. Now he knew.

"--and then just _leveled_ Yancy. Destroyed his leg. Broke it in three places." He swallowed hard. "Just like that, we were done. I could probably have kept playing after they fixed my shoulder, but Yancy was done for good, and... I just... couldn't. I let him down. I let the whole damn team down. We lost, and those fuckers went on to the Rose Bowl." His eyes dropped to his boots. "When I refused to play, I lost my scholarship. Yancy went ahead and graduated, but I didn't even try for financial aid. Just... dropped out. No more NFL dreams. No more future."

They were quiet for a long moment, but Raleigh didn't have the courage to look up and see how Chuck was taking the story. He cared too much to risk seeing the rejection forming.

Finally, after a long, _long_ silence, Chuck shifted. "Why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

He huffed a soft snort. "Didn't think you cared. I thought we were just... fucking in the back room." He played with a string on the hem of his shirt. It had gotten a helluva workout today. It should, by all rights, be in shreds. "I never let myself think about it because... fuck. Why would you want a loser like me? If I didn't get my hopes up, I couldn't get them shot down."

Another long silence. Then: "And you were gonna tell that sheila all of this tonight?"

He shook his head, glad his hair hid some of his face. "I was gonna tell her to ask me again later." Gathering the meager remains of whatever passed for his balls, he lifted his gaze from his boots and hesitantly met Chuck's careful expression. "I wanted to tell you first. You deserved to know before the rest of Shatterdome."

Chuck's throat worked, and the carefully blank expression cracked around the edges. Raleigh wasn't sure what was underneath, but at least it wasn't fury. He knew that much at a glance.

Then, the brat surprised him by reaching out, snagging a hand, and pulling him close enough to put his arms around. Relieved, Raleigh returned the hug and felt the Earth settle back into its 23.4 degree tilt on its axis.

"Sorry I tried to punch you in the throat, mate."

A grin split his face, and he hid it against Chuck's neck. "I probably deserved it."

"You did." A grunt. "And you're not a loser."

But at that, he sighed. "Yeah, I kind of am. But I won't be forever." Though he was supremely comfortable squashed pleasantly against that gorgeous body, he pulled away just enough to stuff his hands in his jeans pockets and look his grumpy Aussie boyfriend right in the eye. "Newt says he thinks I'd make a good college teacher and that he can pull some strings to get me covered financially, so... I think I'm going back to school."

Oh, God, there were the dimples. "Really?"

"Really." He shot a glance at the clock and sighed. "But first, I gotta clean up this mess and close the store and fucking open tomorrow."

Chuck's expression turned wicked. "So you're staying here tonight, yeah?"

Warmth flowed through him like a shot of whisky. "You got something to say, Hansen?"

Oh, now the gorgeous prick was biting his lip, those changeable eyes glittering. "Yeah, Ray, I do. Gimme a fucking broom so we can set this place to rights so I can get to fucking you in the back room." That damn smirk only added to his appeal. Not that the brat needed any help. "With the lights on, thank you very much."

What a fucking day.


	17. DENOUEMENT

Laughing and groping, they fell naked onto the cot, Raleigh not even trying for the top spot. After the day he'd had, he needed to be filled up and taken care of, and Chuck was more than up for the job.

However, just as their desperate grinding and moaning reached the point that lube and condoms should probably make an appearance, Chuck traced kisses down Raleigh's throat to his chest, then slowed and ran his tongue over the scars there. Raleigh shuddered, his heart stuttering in his chest.

Chuck knew, now. And still, he--

"Chuck...."

"Ssshhh, Raleigh." Butterfly kisses and lingering strokes of a wet velvet tongue. "They're just scars, mate." Hot breath over the wetness left behind. "They taste like you."

A lump lodged in his throat, and he threaded his fingers into Chuck's hair, unable to respond out loud. It felt like... acceptance... and Raleigh wasn't sure he deserved that.

But he sure as hell wasn't gonna argue, either.

And when Chuck was finally fully inside him, thick and hot and throbbing, it felt... more. Maybe it was knowing that they were _together_ this time. Maybe it was knowing that Chuck knew the worst part of him and still wanted this.

Maybe it had just been a long ass day, and he was too tired to think straight.

Whatever the cause, he felt like they were two halves of some great, unknowable whole, finally fitting together like they should have all along, all the parts humming along in perfect working order. It wasn't fucking. It wasn't quite making love yet, either, but it was damn close.

And when they came together and collapsed in a tangle of sweaty arms and legs, Chuck's fingers tangled in Raleigh's hair and Raleigh's face buried in Chuck's neck, it felt a lot like the start of something new. Something different.

Something good.

It felt like... the future.

Grinning, he tightened his arms around Chuck's broad, muscled back and sighed, content. "Did you lock the video store?"

Chuck huffed a grunt. "Fuck the video store."

Chuckling even as Chuck grumbled and pulled away just enough to deal with the condom before falling back into place, Raleigh thought the future looked pretty damn good.

About fucking time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was ridiculously fun to write. It came out fast, so there are probably typos I'll correct as I notice or as they're pointed out. At any rate, I hope you guys enjoy it, because you're awesome like that.


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